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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27705581">Nocturne</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpishTubist/pseuds/ImpishTubist'>ImpishTubist</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Fluff, Past Child Abuse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 14:27:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,721</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27705581</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpishTubist/pseuds/ImpishTubist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry goes to Sirius for comfort after a nightmare.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sirius Black/Remus Lupin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>247</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Nocturne</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A missing scene from Christmas during OotP. Brief mentions of past child abuse. Unbeta’d and not Brit-picked, because I’m chaotic like that.</p><p>I don’t support JKR, her transphobic comments, or really anything she has to say about the HP series. It is my immense pleasure to take her characters and rub my queer little hands all over them.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Since the beginning of the school year, Harry has gotten into the habit of placing a Silencing Charm around his bed each night. The other boys in the dorm haven’t noticed, and it makes things easier that way. The nightmares haven’t lessened, but at least Harry doesn’t have to answer any awkward questions about them in the morning. If he wakes up, screaming and sweating, no one else has to know.</p><p>He can’t do that here in Grimmauld Place, though. His elation at spending the holiday with Sirius--especially now that he knows Arthur Weasley will recover--has faded with this realization, replaced by cold dread that sits in the pit of his stomach. He doesn’t dare use magic outside of school again, and so he can’t chance falling asleep tonight with Ron in the next bed over. He doesn’t want to risk the nightmares and the inevitable questions. Maybe, if he keeps himself up all night, he can nap for a bit in the morning once Ron goes downstairs for breakfast.</p><p>Of course, that’s not how it works out. Harry closes his eyes for a moment--just for a minute, he tells himself--and suddenly he’s back in the graveyard, staring into Cedric’s lifeless eyes. He wakes, sweat-soaked and shaking, and doesn’t know if the screams echoing in his ears are his own, or a memory from the dream. He stays as still as possible, dragging in ragged breaths, listening hard. Ron’s snores reach him, and the rest of the house seems silent. Somehow, he hasn’t woken anyone.</p><p>It should be a relief. In a way, it is, but part of him...part of him wishes <em> someone </em> had noticed. That someone had heard his pain, so he doesn’t have to carry it alone. He’s reminded of the brief time in Dumbledore’s office after the Third Task, when Sirius was there with him. Sirius’s hand on his shoulder, grounding him. And, well...Sirius <em> is </em>here. This is his house, after all, and his room is just down the hallway.</p><p>This is ridiculous. He’s fifteen years old. When his friends were young, they could go to their parents’ rooms in the middle of the night when they were scared, but Harry isn’t a child and his parents are dead. He can handle this alone. He’s done it before. He doesn’t need to bother Sirius with it. </p><p>He lays there in the dark for a while, warring with himself. Finally, when he can stand it no longer, he throws back the blankets and gets up. Before he can second-guess himself, he’s easing the bedroom door shut and making his way down the hallway to Sirius’s room.</p><p>No light shines from under his door. Maybe he’s in the kitchen--Harry knows from this past summer that Sirius has insomniatic tendencies. He pauses at the top of the stairs, listening. There are people in the kitchen, but none of them are Sirius. He picks out Shacklebolt’s voice, and then Tonks’s. They must have just got back from a mission. Harry waits for a few moments longer, but doesn’t hear Sirius’s rough baritone. He goes back over to the closed bedroom door, takes a breath, and knocks lightly.</p><p>“Sirius?” His voice is barely above a croak. He clears his throat. “Sirius? It’s me.” </p><p>He waits for three agonizing seconds, his heart pounding painfully against his ribs. Then, he knocks again, just a little louder. Finally, he hears movement within the room--a rustling of clothes, the creak of the floorboards as someone puts their weight on them. The door opens just a crack, and Harry prepares himself for a scowling face, for a harsh “What do you <em> want</em>?” </p><p>Instead, Sirius’s face is full of concern, and his voice is gentle. “Harry? What’s wrong?” </p><p>Oh. He hasn’t prepared himself for this.</p><p>“I, um.” Harry falters. He doesn’t know what to say. Oh, Sirius is going to be furious at him for this, waking him up in the middle of the night and not even able to tell him <em> why</em>. “I--”</p><p>Sirius reaches for him; Harry flinches away. They both freeze, Sirius with his hand outstretched, Harry with his hands half-raised to his face to ward off a blow. </p><p>With an effort, Harry forces his hands to his sides, but it’s too late. Sirius has gone deathly pale. </p><p>“Bad dream?” he says finally, gruffly, and Harry gives a jerky nod. Sirius slips through the cracked-open door. He’s barefoot, wearing only grey-checkered pajama bottoms and a loose black t-shirt, and he’s hastily tied his hair back. “Right. Let’s go chat in the kitchen. Get some tea in you, that’ll help.”</p><p>“There are people down there,” Harry says. </p><p>“Ah.” Sirius hesitates. </p><p>A light flares on behind him, soft and yellow. Someone says, “It’s alright, Sirius.” </p><p>Harry barely has time to process this--there’s someone in Sirius’s room with him? At this hour?--before Sirius pushes open the door and ushers him inside. </p><p>Professor Lupin is sitting cross-legged on Sirius’s bed. He’s wearing a soft-looking long-sleeved shirt and pajama bottoms with Snitches on them. His hair has more grey in it than when Harry last saw him, and it’s longer now, falling across his forehead, but his face is fuller. Healthier. He gives Harry an easy smile.</p><p>“Hello, Harry.” He pats the bed. “Come sit.” </p><p>Harry glances at Sirius, who is still pale but waves his hand in a <em> go on </em>gesture. He sits gingerly on the mattress. Sirius closes the door, and then comes to sit on his other side.</p><p>“I thought you were on a mission,” Harry says to Lupin, for lack of anything better to say. His thoughts are whirling. Sirius and Professor Lupin? <em> Really</em>? For how long? Did his parents know? Did anyone else in the Order know? Why didn’t anyone <em> say </em>anything? </p><p>“I got back a few hours ago.” Lupin leans back against the headboard. He looks tired, but it’s different from the bone-deep exhaustion that seemed to haunt him all of Harry’s third year. Now, his tiredness seems to be the product of a few sleepless nights and nothing more. “Just in time for Christmas. Bad dream, Sirius said?”</p><p>Harry flushes. “It’s fine, actually. I’m sorry to have bothered you. I’ll go back to my room--”</p><p>“No.” Sirius grips his shoulder, and Harry is reminded again of the Third Task. Of sitting in Dumbledore’s office, recounting the night’s horrific events while Sirius’s warm hand rests on his shoulder. “Harry, please.”</p><p>“We all have our share of nightmares,” Lupin says gently. “I’ve dreamed about the night I was bitten for decades now. Sirius was the first person to find your parents’ bodies. We both fought in a war. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Harry. And it helps to talk about them.” </p><p>Harry draws a deep breath. He hadn’t imagined doing this at all, much less with an audience looking on. Professor Lupin was the best teacher he’s ever had, but he can’t--he can’t <em> do </em>this.</p><p>Lupin seems to understand, even without Harry saying a thing. He unfolds his long legs and gets to his feet. He says, “I’ll get us something to drink,” and slips out of the room.</p><p>But when it’s only him and Sirius, Harry still doesn’t know what to say.</p><p>“Harry,” Sirius says finally, “did you think I was going to hit you?” </p><p>There’s a long, deafening pause.</p><p>“No. I don’t know.” Harry wrings his hands. “I woke you up.” </p><p>Gently: “That’s not a good reason to hit <em> anyone</em>, Harry.”</p><p>“Yeah.” He knows that, he does, but he can’t help his automatic reactions. “I dreamed about Cedric.” </p><p>As segues go, it’s effective enough. Sirius immediately tenses, but he says carefully, “I thought as much.” </p><p>“And Voldemort,” Harry goes on, “and Pettigrew, and them taking my blood, and I--if I could have brought him back with me, if I could just <em> show </em>everyone that Pettigrew is still alive--”</p><p>He breaks off. Sirius lifts a tentative hand; meeting no resistance, he gently brushes Harry’s hair off his forehead. It’s a tender gesture, and Harry leans into it. Emboldened, Sirius wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling Harry into his side. </p><p>“There’s nothing you could have done,” Sirius says fiercely, lips pressed against Harry’s hair. “You couldn’t have saved that boy, and you can’t prove my innocence. It’s not on <em> you</em>, Harry. And you did something much more important--you brought Cedric’s body home to his parents.”</p><p>Harry’s face feels hot, the skin tight. He scrubs at his cheeks with one hand, horrified to find them wet. Sirius pulls him into a proper hug then, a hand cupping the back of his head, the other rubbing his back, while Harry muffles his sobs against Sirius’s shoulder. </p><p>He doesn’t know how long they sit like that. Every time he thinks he’s getting a handle on his emotions, something else sets him off all over again. Cedric, Pettigrew, Voldemort’s return, no one believing him, Umbridge’s detentions, Sirius. Sirius being <em> here</em>, alive and in this house and within Harry’s reach, but still too far away. Still, he has to go back to the Dursleys. He bunches Sirius’s shirt tight in his hands and clings to him. He cries, and he <em> cries</em>, and Sirius lets him. </p><p>He hears the door ease open again, and Lupin’s soft footsteps cross the room. He sets something down on the bedside table, and then Harry feels the mattress dip as Lupin sits on the bed again. Sirius doesn’t pull away, doesn’t say, “That’s enough now.” He simply holds Harry and waits. </p><p>When Harry finally quiets, he rests his head against Sirius’s shoulder and just breathes. Sirius holds him, seemingly in no hurry to push him away. It’s nice, being held like this. Sirius strokes his hair and rubs his back and tells him it’s going to be all right, and somehow Harry believes him.</p><p>When he finally does lift his head (after furiously scrubbing his face dry with his sleeve), Lupin hands him a steaming mug of hot chocolate. He passes one to Sirius as well, and has a third for himself. </p><p>“Feeling better?” he asks gently, and Harry nods. “It doesn’t go away, I’m afraid, but it <em> does </em> get easier. You learn to cope with it. And anytime you feel like you can’t...well, I have it on good authority that Sirius gives <em> excellent </em>hugs.” </p><p>Harry gives a wet laugh while Sirius snorts. “Ruining my image, Moony.” </p><p>“You haven’t been able to maintain that image since graduation, Pads,” Lupin retorts. “You wore leather jackets and boots and drove a motorbike, but we all saw right through you. You old softie.”</p><p>Harry is comforted by their teasing, by their easy familiarity. They remind him of Mr and Mrs Weasley, and he has a sudden vision of what it might have been like to be raised by them. </p><p>“How long?” he asks, and Sirius huffs in amusement. </p><p>“Depends on which one of us you ask,” he says, and Lupin grins behind his mug. “Since sixth year, though Moony here is under the impression that we got together in April but I <em> know </em>it was November.” </p><p>“It doesn’t count,” Lupin says, “if the object of your affection is unaware that you’re dating him.” </p><p>“I still don’t know how you managed to be so oblivious. The amount of scheming I had to do to make sure I got you all to myself on Hogsmeade weekends! It didn’t strike you even as a <em> little </em>bit odd that we kept going on outings, just the two of us?” </p><p>“I just thought Prongs and Wormtail had developed a sudden interest in their studies and preferred to stay behind in the library,” Lupin says with a shrug. </p><p>“<em>Honestly</em>, Remus.” </p><p>“So if Pettigrew hadn’t framed you,” Harry asks tentatively, and the good cheer fades from Sirius’s face, “is this--would I have lived with you? Both of you?”</p><p><em> Is this what I could have had? </em>is what he doesn’t say.</p><p>He feels Sirius conducting a silent conversation with Lupin over his head, before his godfather says, “Yes. Your parents knew about us. They intended for both of us to raise you, and that’s what would have happened. Remus is your godfather, too, just not on paper. And unfortunately, at the time, that’s what mattered. If he’d been the one to go to Azkaban, I still could have gotten custody of you, but because I was the one who went to prison...” Sirius trails off.  </p><p>“They wouldn’t let you have me because you’re a werewolf?” Harry asks, and Lupin nods. “I think I would have liked it. Being raised by you, I mean.” </p><p>Lupin’s eyes are shining. “I would have liked that, too, Harry.” </p><p>“I know you didn’t have us for your childhood, and you should have,” Sirius says. “But you have us now, Harry. You can come to us for anything. We’ll always be here for you.” </p><p>Harry drops his gaze to his mug. “Don’t suppose that means I can stay here next summer.” </p><p>The silence that follows tells him everything. Of course nothing is going to change. This is a respite, that’s all. Brief and temporary, and over all too soon.</p><p>“A lot can happen between now and then,” Lupin says at length. “Maybe we’ll find Peter. If Sirius ever clears his name, the law is on his side. You would go with him.” </p><p>“I don’t see why you couldn’t come here,” Sirius says suddenly. Harry looks at him in surprise. “If this place is safe enough for the Order, it’s safe enough for you. What’s Dumbledore going to do, drag you out of here and back to the Dursleys himself?”</p><p>“He might,” Lupin says softly. </p><p>“I’m willing to take that chance,” Sirius says defiantly. “Merlin knows this house isn’t exactly a home, but compared to those relatives of his…” </p><p>“I want to come here,” Harry says, and they both look at him. “When the school year is over. Sirius is right, Dumbledore can’t stop me and it’s <em> loads </em>better than the Dursleys. I’ll stay here for the summer.” </p><p>Sirius beams. Lupin sighs, but there’s a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. </p><p>“Well,” he says, “far be it from me to get in the way of mischief. You’ll need to clear out another bedroom for him, though, Sirius. A proper one that will be his, and doesn’t have a Boggart lurking in the wardrobe or doxies in the curtains.” </p><p>“He can take your old room,” Sirius says, and Lupin flushes deeply. “Oh, come on, Rem. You haven’t stayed in there for months, and all your stuff is in here anyway.” </p><p>“<em>Sirius</em>.” Lupin buries his face in his hands, exasperated and embarrassed. </p><p>“How’s that sound, Sprog?” Sirius asks, ignoring him, and Harry warms at the nickname. </p><p>“<em>Brilliant</em>,” he breathes. “I can’t wait.” </p><p>He’s never looked forward to the summer before. It’s an odd feeling, but a welcome one. Sirius leans over and knocks his shoulder affectionately against Harry’s. “Right then, now that’s settled. Stay here tonight?” </p><p>“Oh, well…” Harry hesitates. “I don’t want to impose.”</p><p>“Nonsense. Bed’s big enough for it,” Sirius says. That was true--the bed <em> was </em>certainly a monstrosity. It could probably sleep three or four grown men with room to spare. “Besides, Moony’s good at scaring away the nightmares.” </p><p>“It’ll be like old times,” Lupin says, resurfacing again, and there’s a fond light in his eyes. “You slept in bed with us when you were a baby, every time we babysat you overnight. Sirius refused to leave you in your crib.” </p><p>“Only because he would scream bloody murder anytime I put him down and looked like I was about to leave him,” Sirius grumbles. </p><p>“No, it’s because Harry has had you wrapped around his finger from day one, and you know it.” Lupin winks at Harry. “Finish your hot chocolate.” </p><p>They finish their drinks in comfortable silence. Lupin eventually gets up and retrieves more blankets from the wardrobe and hands them to Harry. </p><p>“Your godfather <em> will </em>steal all the bedclothes in his sleep,” he explains, and Harry laughs. He takes the right side of the bed, while Sirius and Remus take the left. </p><p>“Alright, Harry?” Sirius asks, once they’re all settled. </p><p>“Yeah, brilliant. Thanks, Sirius.” </p><p>Sirius reaches over to muss Harry’s hair. “Anytime.”</p><p>Lupin whispers, “<em>Nox</em>,” and Harry is asleep moments later.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It turns out the answer to the question “what would it take for Imp to spill 17 years’ worth of feelings about Sirius, Remus, Harry, and HP books 3-5?” is “shut her in her apartment for 8 months during a pandemic.” Expect more HP content in the near future.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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